


Marble and Sunlight

by MontagueBitch (porcia_catonis)



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Drabble, F/F, First Meetings, Gen, instant crush, puppy crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcia_catonis/pseuds/MontagueBitch
Summary: A young Porcia Catonis invites the daughter of her father's dearest friend into her home.   She never expected to be so struck by what a vision she was.





	Marble and Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written from an RP prompt for a first-meeting drabble. I kind of write my Porcia as occasionally, especially when she was younger, having had some nebulous, confusing, and often subconscious crushes on women. In a modern context, she'd probably consider herself bisexual, but in history, without the words, it ends up looking a lot like she just really, really needs to be friends with impressive women.

The morning had been burned away in checking, double checking, and finally waiting. It was the small comfort that came with the running of Bibulus’s house by day, that she could choose her own company, host her own gatherings. It is modest, of course, one of the Junia cousins, her brother, a polite invitation to the wife of her husband’s friend, and the guest of honor. They have not met, not as such, but as a token of love from that Porcii Cati to the Tullii Ciceroni, the honor of two fathers who love each other dearly, she chanced her luck. If nothing else, it will be new.

“You’re pacing,” Marcus is lounging, already eating the food, despite his hand being slapped so many times he just may bruise.

“How novel. I had no idea.” Finally, outside, she hears footsteps, and her little gathering is less sad, peopled only by her sibling, who had no choice but to care for her.

A figure comes into Porcia’s line of sight. Her step is so even it becomes an effortless glide, her posture proud, and such a presence of grace is carried that Porcia is almost bowled over with the effect; she is a wind and the hostess a mere twig, no matter how tall.

Tullia Ciceronis. It’s a wonder how many times, how many variations on the name she has heard, how much she knows about the face attached, without ever having met her once. Any time her father had brought Cicero into their home, the other man has radiated pride. Tullia, Tulliola, that paragon of a daughter, that gem among women. And for all of this, in Porcia’s mind, she has been faceless, veiled, unseen.

Now, plain in her sight, from the nose that recalls her heritage, to the clever curve of her mouth, Porcia forgets her words for a moment. She hovers in the door, stupefied. How on earth does one grapple with meeting someone spoken of only with love and reverence, who is a vision of poise in person, myth made truth.

“And–you must be Tullia,” she stumbles forward, extending an arm. Porcia has found her stride before, she knows how to have an upper hand–here, she will fake it for a time, until at last she has it. She paints her own kind smile, does not let herself freeze; she will match marble with warmth, and bathe Tullia’s graciousness with her own sunlight, if she’ll be allowed.

“I cannot tell you what an honor it is to receive you–your reputation precedes you so well, I may as well be dining with a hero.” She extends a hand, approaching Tullia, meeting her. For once, she thanks the gods for her over-tall stature, that it carries her further, faster, that she knows she takes up a room and cannot, for the life of her, let her look small or meek.

She will make herself a worthy match for this woman, or she is not herself. If generations are fated to become their parents, then this could well be a powerful bond, one day; Porcia is nothing if not Cato’s daughter. She tells herself that’s why the sight of Tullia makes her heart skip a beat and her determination to impress ignite with a vengeance. 

“Please, come inside; consider us friends already.”


End file.
